Beyond the Veil
by Moony vs. Padfoot
Summary: After Sirius falls through the veil in the Department of Mysteries, he is forced into a world created for people that disobeyed the Ministry years ago. Now he must escape this place and figure out the mystery of why these people are here.
1. Prolouge

Prologue

Jo Rowling may have written up these characters and stuffs, but she never said what happen to Sirius… not yet anyways… It's still hers of course. I'd never want to take that from Jo.

By Padfoot

Well, this is just a short little prologue, hope it intrigues you. Kind of like Moony's 'Into the Spirit World' (which I strongly advise you to read after this), but not. It just starts kind of the same. Sirius falling through the veil and what happens to him afterward. I'll shut up now. Enjoy! - Padfoot

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_This room was larger than the last, dimly lit and rectangular, and the center of it was sunken, forming a great stone pit some twenty feet below them. They were standing on the topmost tier of what seemed to be stone benches running all around the room and descending in steep steps like an amphitheater, or the courtroom in which Harry had been tried by the Wizengamot. Instead of a chained chair, however, there was a raised stone dais in the center of the lowered floor, and upon this dais stood a stone archway that looked so ancient, cracked, and crumbling that Harry was amazed the thing was still standing. Unsupported by any surrounding wall, the archway was hung with a tattered black curtain or veil which, despite the complete stillness of the cold surrounding air, was fluttering very slightly as though it was just been touched._

_- Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_

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The veil that was between him and whatever was beyond the archway seemed to coaxingly and teasingly open. Sirius fell closer to it. He couldn't help it. He couldn't feel himself. It was like it was calling him, but he refused to go. Sirius would not go, he _could not_ go. There was a battle going on in that very same room, at that same time. But, as though an invisible force was coming out from the archway, Sirius fell through it.

Darkness. Darkness was all he could see as he seemed to fall, slowly and helplessly, to the unknowing depths of the veil. He didn't fall that far, because before long he hit solid floor, although he hardly felt any pain at all. It was still dark. The dark consumed him, like a thick blanket covering his entire body.

It was scary. One second, he was sitting in his damned house, the next second, everybody from the Order was rushing to the Ministry, and then he was dueling with his cousin… and now he was here. He didn't even know where he was.

Then, a hand closed upon his arm, it was a thin, long fingered hand, and it pulled him to his feet. Well, not the hand necessarily, but the arm and body attached to the hand. It was a woman. Her pale face was in front of his.

She had thick, black hair, which brushed against her shoulders, and bangs that went down and covered some of her eyes. Her eyes were the unusual part. It was odd to see, against pale skin and dark, dark hair to see bright blue eyes. She looked younger than Sirius, only a little over the age of twenty.

She looked at him skeptically, surveying every inch of him.

Sirius was just about to speak when she said, her voice quiet and soft, "Who are you? Where did you come from?"

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	2. Chapter One

Chapter One: Just Here

By Padfoot

I know what you're going to say. 'Why's this chapter called 'Just Here? That's lame!' But, I do have a defense. Sirius is _just_ being introduced to _here._ Well, I think it's alright. Now continue reading. - Padfoot

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"_What d'you reckon that arch was?" Harry asked Hermione as they regained the dark circular room._

"_I don't know, but whatever it was, it was dangerous," she said firmly._

_- Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

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_

Sirius was confused. How did this woman get here? Who was she? Where did she come from? Sirius was thinking of asking her the same questions she had asked him right back at her. When she saw the quizzical look on his face, she smiled.

"My name's Samara," she said to him. "Samara Karpoon."

"I'm—I'm Sirius Black," he stuttered, looking around at the dark images that he could see as his eyes adjusted.

He was in a small square room, and everything was black. The walls were black, the floor was tiled black, and a few chairs against the wall were black, too. There was a black painted door on the other wall of the room, it had a silver doorknob that reminded Sirius too much of his mother's home. There was a bed against another wall of the room, it was big and equally black, the only thing not black was its frame, which was the same silver as the doorknob. There were no windows, no candles, no lamps, and no light.

As Sirius looked around, he said, his voice shaking, "Where am I?"

"Where are you?" Samara chuckled. "You don't know where you are?" And when Sirius didn't reply, the little laughter on her face left it. "Oh," she mumbled. "You really don't know where you are?" When Sirius nodded, she looked around her left shoulder and sighed, as if she would like nothing more than for someone to come through the black door on the other side of the room. Her face looked a bit strained. She was choosing her words very carefully. "Well, I don't even know what it is called…" her voice trailed off, she turned away from him, looking at the dark wooden chairs in the corner.

"I hear things from Matilda and Samuel…." Then she looked back at him like she had just remembered something. "You're a wizard, right?" Her voice became louder, and more demanding than her usual quiet speak.

Sirius nodded, still confused. Who were Matilda and Samuel? Where was he? Is this what happens to you when you die…? If so, were Lily and James here too?

"Well then," she began, her voice quieting down to almost a whisper and turning back away from him. "I don't know what this place is called, but I do overhear other people hear talking. Another man here, Samuel, he calls this place Living Hell." Samara smiled, not showing her teeth. "You went through an archway with a veil to get here, right?"

"Yes," Sirius spoke, his voice cracking. Living Hell? Then he wasn't dead…

"The chairs in the room once held people. Evil people sat in those chairs and sentenced all of the people that live here—to live here. Before I actually start—what year is it?" This question came as an odd shock to Sirius. If she was not dead, Samara certainly had a brain—how could she not know the year?

"Nineteen-ninety-six," he told her, walking over towards the chairs so he could look at her.

Samara's eyes widened. "Really?" She took a step back from him. "Come with me."

Sirius was a bit hesitant to follow her. He had good reasons, too. He had just fallen through an ancient veil in the Department of Mysteries, and met a strange, pale girl by the name of Samara Karpoon. Who was he supposed to trust? Well, the only thing he knows is to get out of this place as fast as he can. The only way to do that is to look around a bit. Sirius stepped through the door onto the next room.

This room was also small, but rectangular and long. Its walls were mirrors that looked like they had never been touched. The floor was a mirror, the ceiling was a mirror. The only non-mirror surface was each black door at either end of the room. Although Samara walked strait through this room, Sirius took a bit longer. When he looked into the mirror, he did not see himself. He had changed, somehow, on his fall down to this place.

His hair, the usual long mass of scruffy black hair, had been combed and cut, so it went only a bit beyond his ears, and the grown-out bangs had disappeared. The gray torn, ripped, dirty, and frayed robes that he had worn for the past fifteen years had disappeared. Instead he was wearing a new pair of robes. They were, clean, completely black, and fit him perfectly. And, Sirius observed, he wasn't wearing any shoes. Neither was Samara, by the look of it. But she, unlike him, was wearing a long black dress that was embroidered with something around its hem.

"What," Sirius began, looking at himself in the mirror again, but was interrupted by Samara who had opened the black door at the other end of the mirror hallway.

"Welcome, Sirius Black," Samara spoke, "to your new home."

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	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two: The Point of No Return

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"_There's nothing you can do, Harry. Nothing… he's gone."_

– _Remus Lupin_, _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

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_

"My—?" Sirius began, walking into the next room, looking perplexed.

But there was something different about Samara, no doubt. There was something different about her facial expression when she had said that. Her eyes seemed to widen, and the rest of her face became sterner. It was much different than the carefree look that had once lingered in her eyes. Samara's voice also became loud and harsh. Sirius almost jumped at all of this alone.

This room was huge. It was equally dark as all of them, but it was huge. It was, as expected, fully black, but this room was different, somehow. It gave Sirius an odd premonition, like he shouldn't be there or something. The walls were littered with thirteen black doors that all looked alike. And if Samara wasn't still holding open the door, he wouldn't be able to tell which of the thirteen doors they came through. In-between each of the doors was a bookcase, tall and black, reaching up to the gloomy ceiling. The books on the shelves were the only things that he had seen colored since his awakening in this—place.

"Samara?" Sirius whispered, feeling that if he spoke any louder he would be punished. "Where are we?" He was walking into the circular room now, looking around at all of the looming bookshelves that were taller than he.

"The main chamber," she answered, still in a different voice than usual, but less stern. Samara's face was definitely paler than it was when he first met her.

"The main chamber?" inquired Sirius, still whispering. "The main chamber of what? Samara, tell me about those evil men that made you come here. Tell me how I got here. Tell me where I am. _Where are we_?"

"I might not even know," she said, her young face not looking at him. Her voice faltered a bit as fear entered it. Then the sour voice came back as she said in a loud voice, echoing slightly in the large room, "One more has come ma'am, but I do not know yet why…."

Who was she talking to? What was in those books on the bookshelves? Questions gave him a headache like never before, but the one question he had wanted an answer to still remained. Where was he? Even when all of the black doors opened, his head and heart still throbbed painfully in the clothes that did not suit him.

The heavy doors opened with a bang. There was someone different standing in each doorway. The men in different doorways were wearing the same black robes as Sirius had found himself wearing, and the women wore the same too-long black dresses with something embroidered on its hem.

Sirius looked around at the faces. It seemed like there were so many of them, he had to keep turning to see them all. But one thing was certain—these people were not as young and welcoming as Samara Karpoon.

"So," one woman began. She looked very old, her hair was blonde but it had many streaks of gray intertwined in it. She started to walk out of her doorway towards Sirius. "The Ministry said that we were the only people to be sent to this place. Did they change their minds, or…"

She was very close to Sirius now. The door she had walked out of slammed shut, but no noise came from it. Just the sound of her voice chilled Sirius to the bone.

"Wh—who are you?" Sirius stammered, involuntarily taking a step backward.

"Who am I? Don't tell me you've never heard of me!" The woman let out a laugh, a high, cruel laugh that echoed throughout the room even when her laughter died. "Who sent you here? The Ministry? Trying to keep watch over what we're doing down here?" She asked more seriously.

"No one sent me here," Sirius said truthfully. "I—I fell." Sirius didn't want to relive how he got here.

The woman looked at him strangely. "Fell? You _fell?_ Fell _where_?"

"Through the veil and the archway," Sirius answered.

She surveyed him like she didn't want to believe the words that came from his mouth. "I am Matilda Ramshen. Leader of the thirteen Death Eaters. Sit now, unwelcome guest."

As if they were summoned there, fourteen chairs appeared in the room. The people that were still standing in their separate doorways sat down in the closest chairs towards them. Sirius looked again at each of them in turn. Pale, white faces stared back at him as if they had never seemed a human being before. Sirius sat down in a chair that was feet behind him next to Samara. Samara's face was, as he looked at it, oddly blank. Her light eyes shone nothing as she looked around at all of the people in the room.

"What is your name?" Matilda asked her voice not as loud and demanding as it was before.

"Sirius Black," he obeyed.

"Well Mr. Black," she said quietly, letting his surname roll off of her tongue. "This must be your new home, if no body sent you. Stay seated, and let me tell you the story of us." Several of the thirteen people shot Matilda surprised looked. She looked taken aback. "What? If he's going to live here, and he's already past the point of no return, he ought to know the whole story…"

**You read it—You loved it—Now review it!

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**

I know I already told Moony that I would say the basic plot in Chapter two, but I think that a cliffhanger would do some good, as I don't use them often. Chapter Three will be up this weekend if all goes well! - Padfoot


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three: Trapped

Continued By Padfoot (yes, she is continuing this)

All did not go well. Xx Okay. I have no excuse to why I laid off the project of writing the next chapter to this. So you are free to throw orange slushies at me. Show no mercy. Now if you will excuse me, I must find a bag to hide my face in shame. – Padfoot

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"_Not gone—just beyond the veil." – Luna Lovegood

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_

Never before in Sirius's life did he want to run more than now. He wanted to run. Run away from this place that he was in. Run for miles and miles and miles. Run into he broke the seams of this twisted dream.

"Where am I?" Sirius's voice seemed smaller than Matilda's demanding boom.

"You, Mr. Black, are in cell number twenty-seven," she replied curtly; watching him slyly with her pale, foreboding eyes.

"And you think I'm going to buy this rubbish?" Sirius was getting annoyed now—who would play a trick on him like this? "Where am I and how can I get back home?"

A person to the left of Sirius shuffled in their seat beside him. "But I just told you where you are," her eyes widened threateningly. "And there is no way out. Well, no way out that I, that is to say, the Death Eaters and I, have not been able to find in one hundred and ninety-six years of being captive here."

Sirius's palms gripped the armrests of the chair alarmingly hard. Why was this woman playing games with him? Before, he was confused. It was alright to be led through odd rooms by a kind woman and end up in dead ends like a dream—but this was probably one of the most complex dreams that he had ever had.

"What do you have to say to that?" She looked at him with a menacing stare. Sirius was quiet, and he looked over at Samara, but she would not look at him. "Nothing, I am sure."

"Yeah," Sirius swallowed. "I have a question for you."

"Yes?" Matilda said somewhat quieter, pulling a lock of her gray-flecked brown hair behind her ear.

Sirius never took his eyes off of the woman he was speaking too across the room. "Why are you called the Death Eaters—if the group called the Death Eaters didn't come to exist until many years after you were—sentenced here?"

"What are you talking about?" her eyes bulged threatengly.

"The Death Eaters," he said slowly and loudly, still keeping his eyes locked on her. "That is what you call yourselves, no?" Sirius did not wait for her reply. He didn't care. He wanted to get this over with and get the hell out of here. "There was no such thing as a group of people called the Death Eaters until Lord Voldemort rose to power." The group's reaction was not what he had expected. In today's wizarding world, most witches and wizards feared Voldemort's name among all others. But when he had said the name 'Lord Voldemort,' the thirteen people acted as if nothing had happened.

"Excuse me? Lord Voldemort?" Matilda tapped her bare foot against the tiled floor once rather impatentialy.

Sirius was—confused. There was no way to put it. "…You don't know who Lord Voldemort is?"

"If I did know who this… 'Lord' is, why would I be asking you?" she said coolly, crossing her arms in front of her chest defiantly.

She was right, Sirius told himself. But you know, she could always be lying. His mind was at war with itself as his thoughts aimlessly flew about the boundaries of his skull. "True," he muttered quietly so he couldn't be heard. Sirius crossed his arms in front of his chest defiantly.

"What year is it?" she inquired randomly, the same question Samara had asked him when he had first landed here.

"Nineteen-ninety-six," justified Sirius simply, his arms not moving.

"Ah, yes. Then I was right," she noted, and then continued, "One hundred and ninety-six years ago, Mr. Black, there was a group of thirteen people known as the Death Eaters. Yes we were, and still are, a small group," Matilda gestured carelessly at the people around him, "We somehow upset most people that were highly ranked in the Ministry of Magic somehow. They put me and these other people under probation, and if we did any of those… _wrongful_ acts again, we would be punished." She took a deep breath and closed her pale eyes, then opened them again. "And, here we are. Imprisoned in cell number twenty-seven for eternity. There is _no way out._"

Sirius was confused. Why had he never heard of these people? "Are there other people in other cells…? What did you do…?" His questions trailed off and were left unanswered.

"That room that you described, with the veil and the dais," she began, "that was the trial room."

He never described the room to her.

"Samara!" Matilda yelled, fixing her gaze to the girl sitting in the chair next to Sirius. Samara shook slightly and Sirius could see a flicker of fear in her eyes.

"Yes?" Samara sputtered quickly, looking strait into Matilda's eyes, unblinking.

"Take this man to your room. He will stay there. Do not tell him anything else about this place." Her voice had—changed somehow when she said this. It was colder. More hallow. Almost overly demanding.

"Yes," Samara replied quietly. Her voice was also the same, hallow and cold.

"Everyone is dismissed," Matilda said finally, walking around back into her doorway. The other people did the same. Even Samara, who oddly acted like she didn't see Sirius at all.

Sirius followed her anyways. The chairs they had once been sitting in had evaporated in thin air. He ran his fingers through his hair. This place was definitely confusing.

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Arg. You guys hate me. I know. Please ignore any spelling errors. I cannot spell for my life, but I am getting better. The spell check was on the spaz today. It wouldn't work. Yeah.Now, I wake up at 5am not to finish my homework or study for that test, but to write Fanfiction. So I will hopefully update within this week. As I have nothing else to do anyways. – Padfoot

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Now, I will be doing a first. SHOUT-OUTS TO REVIEWERS.

Dragon- Yeah. Thanks. Cliffhangers are fun. And yet evil.

IamSiriusgrl- Thank you. :)

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**You read it—You loved it—Now review it!**


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four: Confusion

Chapter Four was authored by our own Padfoot

Now, you might say. "OMG. That was a quick update." But it wasn't, really. This was going to be in with chapter three—but I felt that they should both have their own, small, separate chapters. Because I feel bad for my chapters. Don't ask. - Padfoot

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He walked through the hallway full of mirrors, then into the entirely black room. Samara had almost run to the room. Sirius found her sitting on the bed that was nonetheless hers.

"Hello," he said quietly and randomly, walking into the room cautiously.

"Hi," she said, looking blankly at the equally blank wall, still not blinking.

"What went on in there? I mean, why are you guys _here_?" He was confused. Why was no one telling him what he really needed to know?

Samara looked at him for a second. She just looked at him. She was indeed very young, only a few years older than Harry, Sirius had assumed. Samara locked eyes with him. "Take a seat," she waved her hand in an almost impatient matter at the black chair that he had seen when he first fell into the room.

Sirius did what he was told and sat down in the hard, black chair. It was oddly cold, like metal, although it appeared to be made of a dark wood painted black. He decided to be calm. Yelling and screaming around the place was not going to get him answers. He would have to be calm, wait, and then ask. Yet another part of him was telling him to run all around this—place like a madman. Search and poke and prod until he could find some way out. He had to get out. He had to help them. He had to help Harry….

Harry. The last time that Sirius had seen Harry, he was in the Department of Mysteries. The Order of the Phoenix had just run in the place, saving Harry and his friends from a certain death. But he had left before the fight was over. What if the Order lost? What if Harry died?

No. He mustn't think about that now. Now, what he had to think of was how to get out of this… cell. And it was indeed acting like a prison for Sirius. He was trapped. Trapped and unable to help with whatever was going on in the outside world. He was helpless. He had to get out. And fast.

"You didn't answer me," Sirius pulled his head away from her gaze and stared down at the smooth, cold floor. "I asked you a question. Why are you guys here?"

"You heard Matilda," she said stubbornly. "I'm not to tell you anything else."

"Wha—what?" stammered Sirius, taking his eyes off the ground to look at her in disbelief. "Come on, you can tell me now, tell me here! That Matilda woman isn't here to boss us around."

She stopped looking at him, looking instead at her hands, which were folded neatly on her lap. "I can't," Samara replied simply.

Sirius was getting anxious. "What do you mean, you can't? Matilda isn't here—don't you get it? You can tell me, Samara," moaned Sirius. He just had to get out of here. And he was sure that he was going to do whatever he could to do so. Sirius had to get back to Harry. He just _had to_.

"You don't understand," she accused softly.

"What's there not to understand?" Sirius asked. "When you tell me, it might help me get out of here. We can just keep it a secret from her."

"No," cried Samara. "We can't." she hesitated for a moment. "You see—Matilda is—my mother," she whimpered and turned away.

Sirius might have thought he was confused before. But he was wrong. He was definitely wrong. So wrong that it might have been right. But it wasn't. He was confused _now_. "What?" he said, his voice lowering significantly.

"Matilda is my mother," Samara stood up.

That couldn't be possible. The two didn't even have the same last name. "But—you two don't have the same last name—and—you don't look…" Sirius ran his fingers through his hair again. It was a habit. Whenever he was under stress, he would pull his fingers through his glossy hair—which had lost its shine after the Azkaban chapter of his life.

She smiled weakly. "I'm glad I got my looks from my father," she explained. "Get comfortable in that chair, Sirius—because you're about to hear a whole other story." Samara sat back down on her bed, but this time sat so she was facing him. "Matilda is my mother. And when I was only two years old—she killed my father. She just killed him. Don't ask me why—I don't know. I don't even remember him." There was a pause. "Then, when I was ten, she remarried. To a man by the name of Tomas Ramshen. I kept my birth fathers last name. Tomas was mean—he would be constantly angry. I think he was the reason that Matilda is as mean as she is today." She looked down at her hands again. "She wasn't like this always. No… she used to love me." Her voice quivered slightly as she crossed her legs on top of the bed.

"I'm sorry to hear that," announced Sirius—and he did feel that way. He had never known what it was like to be loved. But to be loved and then somehow loose that love had to feel much, much worse than enviously watching your friends be hugged and kissed by their parents. "But I still don't understand. Why can't you tell me?"

"It's more than just the fact that she's my mum," she stated, looking back up at Sirius. "She controls me. She controls my life. It's like she reads my mind. She knows all I know. She knows all I feel. She _owns me_, Sirius."

Sirius's eyes widened. "Can you at least try and help me?" he inquired. "You don't have to tell me anymore. Just help me try and get out."

She nodded and smiled. "Sure, I'll help you. Just try not to let anyone else figure out what we're doing."

"Thank you," Sirius made to stand up. He still had one question that he just had to ask—he was sure that her mother wouldn't reject to him knowing the answer to _this_. "And… might I ask… how old are you?"

Samara also stood up. "I'm seventeen, for your information."

Sirius was surprised. Samara acted much more mature then he remembered seventeen year olds to be acting. _Then again, you weren't thematurest seventeen year old in the bunch. _He reminded himself. And then Sirius shut his eyes just to take in the moment of being partly happy in this place. He had help. And with that—he was one step closer to his home.

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Sirius-Black-SFan- You know, that's just a little tagline that I put at the end of all of my chapters—but I do love to see that some readers enjoy it! Thank you! I hope you liked this one.

**You read it—You loved it—Now review it!**


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